#or gollum from that one game

[virichemia]

him angy

[thefirstknife]

New article with more details (from Jason Schreier who first broke the story). If you can't see it, I'll copy the whole text under read more.

About 100 employees were laid off in total (8%) and one of the main reasons listed is "underperformance," "sharp drop in popularity" and "poor reception of Lightfall."

So you know when for the last year and a half content creators have been shitting and pissing on the game as a full-time job and the amount of negativity and ragebait content became the only thing to make content about for them? Well they certainly won't take the blame, but I will let it be known. These people either don't understand the influence they have or they do and they're doing it on purpose, and I don't know which of these two options is worse, but I am 100% confident that their campaign of rage and hate contributed to this.

You don't base your entire community around constantly hating everything about the only game you play (despite clearly not enjoying it anymore) and somehow avoid galvanising thousands and thousands of people into perceiving the game negatively. Imagine being employees who have barely worked there for 2 years and the only community reception they've seen is 24/7 hate train for their work and then they get fired because of "poor reception" and "drop in popularity." How can they not take that personally? I am absolutely devastated for these people who delievered a banger product and who were met with an unrelenting barrage of toxic gamer children which ended up having more sway over their boss than them.

Which brings me to the next bit and that's FUCK THE CEO. He is now my mortal enemy #1. I am projecting psychic blasts directly into his brain. What an absolute spineless coward who is more willing to bow down to fucking gamers than to protect his own employees. This is absolutely rage inducing because this has happened before. From the article from 2021 about the toxic culture at Bungie:

Reading this shit from the new article absolutely fucking sent me into blind rage because I immediately remembered this. Another instance of employees suffering because of comments on reddit. And because of toxic players. And proof that leadership is not protecting employees and is instead siding with players.

Match made in heaven. Asshole gamer content creators and asshole CEOs, all of whom sit at home on piles of money made from someone else's labour. I hope they all explode. None of the people that worked on this game deserve this.

Another article with an infuriating comment from the CEO:

In an internal town hall meeting addressing a Monday round of layoffs that impacted multiple departments, Bungie CEO Pete Parsons allegedly told remaining employees that the company had kept “the right people” to continue work on Destiny 2.

"Kept the right people." Really. Veteran composers weren't the right people? Die!

Bloomberg article in full:

Bungie’s decision to cut an estimated 100 jobs from its staff of about 1,200 followed dire management warnings earlier this month of a sharp drop in the popularity of its flagship video game Destiny 2. Just two weeks ago, executives at the Sony-owned game developer told employees that revenue was running 45% below projections for the year, according to people who attended the meeting. Chief Executive Officer Pete Parsons pinned the big miss on weak player retention for Destiny 2, which has faced a poor reception since the release of its latest expansion, Lightfall. The next expansion, The Final Shape, was getting good — not great feedback — and management told those present that they planned to push back the release to June 2024 from February, according the people, who asked not to be identified because they weren’t authorized to speak publicly. The additional time would give developers a chance to improve the product. In the meantime, Parsons told staff Bungie would be cutting costs, such as for travel, as well as implementing salary and hiring freezes, the people said. Everyone would have to work together to weather the storm, he said, leaving employees feeling determined to do whatever was needed to get revenue back up. But on Monday morning the news got worse: Dozens of staffers woke up to mysterious 15-minute meetings that had been placed on their calendars, which they soon learned were part of a mass layoff. Bungie laid off around 8% of its employees, according to documentation reviewed by Bloomberg. Bungie didn’t respond to requests for comment. Employees who were let go will receive at least three months of severance and three months of Bungie-paid COBRA health insurance, although other benefits, such as expense reimbursements, ended Monday, sending some staff racing to submit their receipts. Laid-off staffers will also receive prorated bonuses, although those who were on a vesting schedule following Sony Group Corp.’s acquisition of Bungie in January 2022 will lose any shares that weren’t vested as of next month. The layoffs are part of a larger money-saving initiative at Sony’s PlayStation unit, which has also cut employees at studios such as Naughty Dog, Media Molecule and its San Mateo office. TD Cowen analyst Doug Creutz wrote in a report Monday that “events over the last few days lead us to believe that PlayStation is undergoing a restructuring.” PlayStation president Jim Ryan announced last month that he plans to resign. Many of the layoffs at Bungie affected the company’s support departments, such as community management and publishing. Remaining Bungie staff were informed that some of those areas will be outsourced moving forward.

[n0ahsferatu]

omg i’ve been a fan of yours for year now and as an artist i need to know.

what do you listen to while you draw???

for me it’s super varied but i’m always fascinated by other’s processes!!! 

also just. i love your art so much. followed you bc of ds9 art and i’ve loved everything since. even shit idk anything abt. i just love your art man

hi anon :) aaa well! i have a hard time working in complete silence so when I draw I usually have a movie/show playing in the background or I'm listening to music! my go-to genres are darkwave, coldwave and post-punk, but I also have a soft spot for both classic and modern rock and i occasionally listen to movie soundtracks as well. when I'm sketching an illustration I like putting on something that fits the vibes of what I'm drawing to help me get inspired!

OH and i almost forgor but long form video essays are absolute life-savers as well

also thank you so much skdvjkfbnk this is very kind of you to say 🥺 I haven't starred my trek in a bit but the ds9 fandom on here was an absolute godsend for my depressed burnt out ass back in 2022 and there's stuff that I drew back then that I'd love to rework a bit someday! and tbh I'm due for a ds9 rewatch soon i think

anyway thank you again anon I hope you have a lovely day :)

[youvejustbeen-quattroed]

i will NOT hear you out-

Okay hear me out--

[probablybadrpgideas]

Social Outcasts By Species

Humans: Me :(

Dwarves: Okkut, who's great grandfather once said a slur near the great grandfather of the current king, according to general historical consensus. To the shun mine!

Halflings: You'd think it would be Gollum, but nope, that's a hobbit. Common mistake. It's Mullog, a legally distinct little freak man who lives in a hole.

Gnomes: Ramblestarp, the one gnome accountant trying to manage the prank budget. It's very hard because half the receipts are pranks and the other half are squirrels.

Dragonborn: Aldek. She's descended from one of those weird 2nd edition dragons who never got ported into the later games, so she doesn't have her racial features yet. Hopefully the next supplement will retcon her parents back into existence.

Goblins: Surprise! It's Ramblestarp again.

Orcs: Deathblood The Butcher, Scourge Of The Seven Kingdoms, Ravager Of The Holy And Unholy Lands, Bringer Of Despair To All Lands He Walks Within, He Whose Hands Run Red With The Blood Of Orphans. The guy's just trying way too hard. We all know for a fact you've never been to either the Holy or the Unholy lands. Dial it back a bit, for Gruumsh's sake.

Elves: The fucking Onceler. No, no, hear me out, he's a weird twink who just appears in the woods one day and dedicates his life to destroying nature and angering the fae. It makes so much sense...

[a-leg-without-fear]

Reading to Each Other 🪻

day one of tuna tober y'all!! i'm SO fricking excited! :D

Ship: Duke Leopold Mountbatten x f!Reader

Rating: 13+

Wordcount: 1.3k

Warnings: lots of LOTR, tobacco mention, riddles, kissing, cuddles

Series: Leg's Tuna Tober

It was a quiet Sunday afternoon. Rain pattered on your apartment's windows, the occasional roll of thunder booming outside. The spiced scent of your pumpkin candle floated through the living room air. Warm light shone from shaded lamps positioned on either end of your green-clothed sofa. A thick, soft blanket was draped over your lap.

You held your worn copy of The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien. Images of a dark cave filled with still water and an eerie sense of calm floated from the yellowed pages. Sounds of whispered riddles and shaking hands holding shining jewelry bounced around inside your head. It was nearly impossible to read Tolkien and not get entirely engrossed.

"How's your book?" Leo asked from the other end of the couch.

You nearly jumped out of your skin. Your head snapped up from where you'd been hunched over your book, eyes wide, as you met Leo's amused gaze. A light laugh filtered through his bright smile.

"Sorry! Didn't mean to alarm you," he said, amusement clearly indicating that he wasn't sorry in the slightest. You shook your head and sighed at his antics.

"Uh huh. Sure," you groused with a growing smile.

Leo was equally curled up on his side of the sofa. Fluffy blanket draped across his lap, glasses fitted over his thin nose, copy of Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen balanced in one of his hands. Hazel eyes trailed over the "grumpy" expression you'd forced over your face.

"Anything interesting standing out so far?" he asked, nodding to the book still clutched in your hands.

"I'm at one of my favorite parts, if that's what you mean," you replied as you burrowed deeper into the couch cushions. Leo tucked his bookmark into his novel, then set the book and his glasses on the end table nearest him.

"Care to elaborate?" he pressed with a cocked eyebrow. You bit your lip as you scanned over the pages again. Hisses and riddles and splashes of ground water leapt from the ink. Hmm. Riddles.

"Well, this part is about Bilbo bargaining, with a creature named Gollum, for his life. They're exchanging riddles as a sort of game," you explained, trying your best to not confuse a man who'd never heard of the Lord of the Rings.

"And what riddles are they?" Leo asked with a growing smile. He crossed his legs under his blanket to give you his undivided attention. You glanced between him and the book in your hands.

"You want to try and solve the riddles, or do you want me to read the whole part?"

"Just the riddles," he specified. You hummed in response.

"Alright, just know that they can get pretty tricky," you said in a singsong manner. Leo stared at you with apt interest as you turned to the correct page in your book. Inked words flew past your eyes, descriptions of swords and hobbits and tobacco and goblins filling your mind, nearly sucking you back into the story, before you found the first riddle. You cleared your throat and read, "What has roots as nobody sees, is taller than trees, up, up it goes, and yet never grows?"

"Has to be a mountain, isn't it?" Leo guessed almost immediately. He seemed rather confident in his answer, dimples digging into his cheeks with how wide his smile had stretched.

"Yup. Mountain," you answered, already thinking of which riddle to do next. Do you be nice and keep giving him the easier ones, or kick it up a notch? He did invent the elevator, after all.

"Give us a harder one, love," he said. That decides it for you, then.

"It cannot be seen, cannot be felt. Cannot be heard, cannot be smelt. It lies behind stars and under hills, and empty holes it fills. It comes first and follows after, ends life, kills laughter."

Leo blew out a long stream of air, "When I said hard, I didn't mean that hard!"

You refrained from making the obvious joke brewing at the back of your throat. An involuntary giggle leaked from your lips. You tried to play it off by resting your chin in your hand, fingers digging into your lips, to keep yourself quiet.

The room was quiet for a few moments as Leo considered the riddle. Raindrops trailed down the window, rivulets chasing each other and creating long tails that winded up the glass. This Sunday, utterly serene in its quality, was one of many you'd gotten to experience with Leo. Something about him just garnered peace in your life.

"Do I get a hint?" he asked with a sigh. You grinned at him from under your fingers.

"If Bilbo doesn't get a hint, neither do you," you said. Leo groaned, leaning back on the sofa and throwing an arm over his face. You couldn't help the laugh that breezed between your fingers.

"You are undeniably cruel," he grumbled under his arm.

"You wanted a harder riddle," you replied with a shrug. Leo grunted in return, making you laugh again. You waited a few more moments, letting him agonize over the riddle, before you decided to take pity, "What is it when your eyes are closed?"

"The hell are you on about? Is this a part two to the riddle?" Leo groused.

The blanket in your lap pooled into a pile on the floor as you crawled across the couch. Your sweatpants-clad legs framed Leo's hips, your hands running up his sides, as you sat in his lap. He begrudgingly lowered his arm and met your eyes.

"That was a clue. What do you see when you close your eyes?" you repeated as you ran your palms up and down his forearms. Leo's expression softened slightly.

"A spot of mercy," he said, smile returning, "I was wrong in labeling you cruel."

"Yeah yeah, Mr.1876. Just answer the damn riddle," you said as you rolled your eyes. Leo's warm palms found their usual place on your hips.

"You can't see it, feel it, hear it, or smell it. And closing my eyes has something to do with it," he listed, tongue darting across his bottom lip. A few more moments filled with pondering passed.

"For god's sake," you breathed as you clapped your hand over his eyes. The two of you had been together for so long that the action had hardly surprised him. You waited for a moment in hope that this obvious clue would help. Being met with only silence, you said, "What do you see right now?"

"Your hand, for one," Leo quipped back. He flinched with a laugh when you pinched him with your free hand.

"Close your frickin' eyes, Leo."

Silence settled over the two of you. Warm, comfortable, charged with amusement at your situation. Only Leo's smile could be seen from under your hand. His thumbs tucked under the hem of your t-shirt.

"It's dark," he finally said. You gave him a few moments to connect the dots. A gasp shook his chest, "Dark! That's the answer!"

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner!" you exclaimed as you dropped your hand from his eyes.

Pure elation crinkled in the corners of his hazel eyes. He hugged you closer to his chest, a laugh shaking where your bodies met. You couldn't help but join in. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders to steady yourself.

"Do I get a prize for so effortlessly solving the riddle?" Leo asked with a hint of sarcasm after the two of you had calmed a bit.

"I'm deducting points for the use of a hint," you hummed, feigning consideration at his question.

"And those points, will they affect the prize I know I've earned?"

You answered his question by pressing your lips to his. Both smiling, both clinging to the other with absolute adoration, the occasional giggle buzzing between you.

It was a quiet Sunday afternoon. It was raining outside, your candle had burnt down to the wick, and you were cradled in Leo's lap as you both read your respective books. Your back to his chest, blanket draped over both of your laps, his cheek rested on the crown of your head. Every now and then you'd read a part of your book aloud, garnering the same in return from Leo.

AHHHHHHHHH this is so frickin cute i might CRY!!! happy tuna tober everyone!!!

taglist: @just-a-nightdreamer @venomqueen2002 @c1eepypas1a @www-interludeshadow-com

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[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-down AU Part 3

Part 1 Part 2

Their planning session didn’t bear much fruit. Harrington had tried the water in his sink, and it came out a murky black. When he pulled snacks out of a hidden bottom in one of his dresser drawers, each unopened pack was full of mold and ash. 

They had no weapons, no game-plan, and the sky was still red. In short, they were fucked. 

The bickering was kept barely civil by the need to control their volume. 

“–just think we should consider scoping the place out!” Harrington was whispering but enunciating like a shout. “For all we know there’s good food at the store, or a way out of here right where we went in, or at least some water at the quarry!”

“You want to drink quarry water? That shit’s inedible even when there’s not toxic ash particles floating in it!”

“That’s not the point!” Harrington’s passing in front of him, raking his hand through his drooping hair. “We can’t just hide in my room forever. No one’s coming to save us!”

“Not forever, man.” Eddie replies, leg twitching from where he’s still sitting at the edge of Harrington’s bed. “But that thing’s still out there. I don’t know about you, but I think we should have a better idea for surviving it than just hoping it’s not out there!”

Harrington droops, shoulders, mouth, hair, and then drops to the carpet where he was standing. “Shit, okay, okay, you’re right.”

That same thrill goes through him at seeing Harrington beneath his feet. He squashes it down, scooching off the bed to sit across from Harrington on the floor. 

“Hey,” Eddie says, voice gone quiet and kind at the look of desolation on Harrington’s face. “We’re gonna figure this shit out, man.”

Harrington laughs, and it sounds remarkably like the laugh he always heard across high school hallways and cafeterias and gyms. Hollow. Eddie has the absurd urge to throw his arms around him. 

“Okay man, how about we start by raiding your closet. I don’t know about you, but my clothes reek like your rich-boy pool.”

Harrington scoffs, but dutifully levers himself off the floor to shuffle through his open closet. He throws a navy blue long sleeve in Eddie’s direction, followed by an awful pair of bleach-washed jeans, socks, and a pair of underwear. 

Then, like Eddie’s another jock and they’re in the locker room after practice, Harrington starts stipping with no regard to modesty. Eddie quickly turns his back from the sight and begins to do the same. His jeans jangle when he drops them on the carpet, chain and lunch box rattling when they hit the floor. Eddie holds a silent memorial for all the dignity he was about to lose.

He’s just pulled the slightly short pants on and buttoned the fly when he hears the little “huh,” Harrington lets out.

Quickly pulling the shirt over his head, he turns to see what Harrington’s on about. Luckily, the other boy still had his underwear on. Unluckily that was all he had on as he crouched down and stared at the ring cradled in his hand. Absurdly, Eddie thought of Gollum and had to bite his lip on the laugh in his throat.

“Whatcha got there, Stevie boy?”

Still crouched, Harrington held the ring up toward Eddie, clutched between pointer finger and thumb, looking like a man picking the worst possible moment to propose marriage.

“This yours?” he asks.

It was. “Where’d you get that?” he demands, snatching it from Harrington’s grasp.

“Fell out of my pants.”

Eddie looks down at the little ring in his palm. It was his Mom’s–the perfect size for only his littlest fingers. He remembers the pressure and sudden pain of his finger being wrenched out of where it was tucked into Harrington’s pants. He hadn’t even realized it was missing. 

Slipping it onto his other pinkie, Eddie murmurs a quiet “thanks,” cheeks blooming with color at the implications. 

Harrington doesn’t respond, but Eddie can feel his gaze on the back of his head as he walks over to Harrington’s horrific plaid curtains and twitches them back to look outside. There’s nothing to see but the same red sky, the same vine-covered pool, the same empty backyard they’d fled last night. 

Not wanting to stare at the hopeless sight anymore, Eddie bends down to pull the borrowed socks and his slightly damp boots back on his feet.

Eddie can hear the sound of clothes shuffling behind him, refusing to turn back around until the sound stops. But then Harrington gasps out, “Nancy?”

Eddie turns, expecting to see Harrington’s girlfriend miraculously in the room with them, but there’s nothing but Harrington spinning wildly around the room, looking for something Eddie can’t see. 

“Nancy?” he says again, louder this time, still at nothing.

Eddie’s sure he’s gone around the bend, and he’s going to have to put him down like old yeller, but then he hears it, “-would he have gone?” It’s quiet, muffled, but there.

“I don’t know, Nancy,” another voice replies, sounding exasperated. “Maybe he’s off with his parents vacationing in Europe or something. Who cares? Can we go before someone calls the police?”

“Barb?” Steve calls again, growing louder still. 

Eddie still can’t see anyone, but he calls out “Wheeler?” desperate to be heard.

“Will is missing, though!” Wheeler replies. Her voice sounds shrill—less like she’s panicking and more like she’s about ready to lose it and sock her friend in the jaw. “Do you really think that’s a coincidence?”

“Yes!”

“Nancy!” Steve calls again, this time loud enough to echo through the room.

Eddie’s yanked open the closed door to the Harrington’s stupid en-suite bathroom, like Wheeler and her mystery friend will suddenly appear in the bath tub, hanging out like the world is still normal. He’s even poked his head into the dark interior of the closet they’d slept in, but no dice.

Harrington is still screaming his head off to the two girl’s who are either playing the world’s cruelest prank or simply can’t hear him, when Eddie opens Harrington’s bedroom door.

It happens before he’s taken even one step out into the hallway. There’s that sound that makes his hair stand on end. Foxes chittering, television static trapped in an enclosed box and made horrific and animal. Eddie closes the door.

Harrington’s still screaming as it grows louder—grows closer.

“Harrington,” he snaps, voice cracking on each syllable.

He doesn’t stop screaming until Eddie’s backed up right into him, unable to look away from the door as he trips over Harrington’s feet. His shoulders are setadied.

Nancy’s still talking. Eddie can’t hear her over Harrington’s ragged breathing, over that thing chittering up the stairs.

“Munson, what’s—” He must hear it because he stops talking, and his nails really dig in, little pricks of pain that Eddie wants to lean back into.

He finds himself bargaining in his brain to some nebulous being he doesn’t believe in. He’ll let Harrington beat him bloody if that thing doesn’t come into this room. He’ll tell Wayne he loves him more. He’ll stop skipping P.E. He’ll go to church, god damn it! But none of it works. The sound grows louder.

Harrington’s forearm is suddenly in front of his sternum, pulling him along backwards. Eddie stumbles further into him, letting his weight drop onto Harrington fully. The bastard doesn’t even seem to notice, as he continues dragging Eddie bodily away from the door.

Wheeler’s friend is talking now. Eddie has no idea what she’s saying, only that her voice turns angry and shrill just as Harrington begins to slide his bedroom window up. Just as that horrific nightmare of a monster busts down Harrington’s bedroom door like it’s a cardboard playhouse.

He’s paralyzed, rooted to the spot as the thing opens its gaw and screams, twining horrifically with the mundanity of two invisible girls arguing. The blinds clack together as Harrington lunges through them, pulling Eddie out the window behind him. He can hear the strings holding them together snap–knows the sound intimately from all the guitar strings he’d broken while learning.

His back scrapes painfully on the top of the sill as he’s crammed through the opening. He doesn’t care what shapes Harrington configures his body into as long as he keeps pulling him away from that thing. 

His opinion holds as Harrington drags him bodily across the shingles of his roof. The monster lunges, stuck halfway through the too-small window, as Eddie’s hauled upright.

“Fucking, go,” Harrington yells, shoving him toward the sheer drop off the roof. He’s just considering jumping when he continues, somehow finding the energy to sound exhausted, “the gutters, man. Shimmy down. I do it all the time.”

He’s not looking at Eddie anymore, back turned like somehow keeping the monster in sight will stop it from swallowing them whole. 

Eddie eyes the gutter. It looks flimsy and too smooth to hold onto, but the horrific sounds emanating from Harrington’s bedroom make a compelling argument. He kneels, latches his hands into the loop of the gutter and swings himself off the roof. 

Vertigo almost takes him down, but Eddie manages to hang on, shuffling quickly down as he hears glass begin to splinter from above. 

Harrington’s foot catches him in the shoulder before he makes it all the way down. His fingers slip–he falls.

It’s not a long fall, but he lays, winded in the aftermath and watching Harrington leap and roll like some goddamn action hero, before he’s yanking Eddie up and dragging him blindly away from the house.

It’s quiet by the time they reach the woods. Eddie can’t hear Harrington behind him past his own ragged breathing. He only knows he’s there by the warm hand clutched tightly into his vest, like he’s a school child fond of running into the road. Eddie doesn’t mind.

He minds even less when, once fully ensconced in the trees, Harrington pushes him against a tree and pulls him down beside him. 

It’s reminiscent of those first moments in the closet. They’re close together, Eddie can’t catch his breath, and they’re both staring, horrified in front of them waiting for the big bad wolf to come eat them.

Harrington is holding his hand.

Part 4

[thetownsendsw]

Today marks the premier of #Pathfinder’s Triumph of the Tusk Adventure Path, so I’d like to take a moment to discuss a relevant topic near and dear to my heart.

ORCS!

While Tolkien was drawing on some linguistic antecedents, Orcs in fantasy originate from The Hobbit & Lord of the Rings, where they’re brutish soldiers of various forces of evil.

Initially lacking redeeming quality, Orcs have become a darling of pop culture, their thuggish nature explored from many angles across TTRPGs, video games, comics, novels, and more.

Now, when you picture an Orc, you no doubt imagine something akin to the Warcraft or Warhammer franchises: statuesque, green skinned humanoids with protruding underbites and looming tusks, often locked into a primitive, itinerant lifestyle, eschewing technology beyond what they pillage from other races.

Interestingly, none of this is in Tolkien.

In Tolkien, “Orc” was essentially another word for “Goblin,” or perhaps unusually large Goblins. Far from statuesque, Gollum (a (former?) Hobbit) could easily be confused for one. The Uruk-hai, a new, stronger Orcish offshoot were described as Orcish in appearance but only as tall as a Man, not taller.

Tolkien’s Orcs are described as deformed, but nothing as specific as green skin or tusks is specifically mentioned (Tolkien saved in-depth sensory detail for trees, and occasionally beards).

Far from being savages, Tolkien’s Orcs were–in his grand Romanticist narrative–stand-ins for industrialization. They were destroying the forests to build grand weapons of war, and soot-covered Mordor evoked the smokestacks of 19th century london.

In many ways the conflict of LotR can be interpreted as Tolkien pitting the noble myths and tales he studied up against his real experiences in WWI.

(the thought amuses me of a firmly medieval fantasy setting, except when we zoom in on the Orcish Badlands they’re all shelling each other from the trenches)

But while none of these traits are in Tolkien, there is a source where they are central.

The Green Martians, or Tharks, first appeared in A Princess of Mars by Edgar Rice Burroughs, published in All-Story Magazine from Feb-July 1912, well before any of the kids Tolkien decided to tell a fairy tale to were born.

The Tharks are described as 15 foot tall nomadic savages, favoring mighty beasts and weapons salvaged from the more civilized races of Barsoom. They have green skin and tusks, as well as six limbs (interestingly, the middle limbs are described as functional as either crude arms or secondary legs, but art always just depicts four arms)

Culturally, the Tharks are clearly meant as extensions of the Apache raiders encountered in the early chapters of the book set in Arizona; i.e. some California ranch-owner’s idea of wasteland savages. Nomadic, inhuman raiders redeemable only when breaching their primitive traditions.

The parallels are almost uncanny, and I’ll admit I’m honestly not sure where the crossover occurs. Early editions of D&D–another driver of fantasy trends–depict orcs as pig-people, which is probably how tusks became so iconic. They later added gray skin, which persisted officially until the current edition.

Somewhere between there in ‘74 and Warhammer in the early 80s is when the pseudo-Barsoom look took over in broader culture, and at this point there’s no getting around it. Even the more recent Tolkien film adaptations can’t entirely escape the expectation of modern Orcishness.

Turning back the clock a bit, Tolkien notably was never entirely sure where Orcs came from. His first idea was that they were molded from clay by Morgoth, a dark mirror to Adam, but being a Catholic at heart, he disliked the idea of Evil being a creative force.

He flip-flopped for the rest of his life, whether Orcs were corrupted men/elves/hobbits, uplifted beasts, even (according to one post I saw) soulless bodies remotely piloted by demons. He could never quite square the need for unfailingly evil mooks with his own feelings on Good & Evil.

Personally, I find particular resonance in the parallel between what D&D used to call an “always chaotic evil” race and the very Catholic concept of Original Sin. Was Tolkien merely dancing around the idea that the Orcs only needed to be Saved?

I can’t say what Tolkien would think of modern Orcs, either their merging with an earlier, American space alien, or our attempts to humanize what was supposed to be fundamentally inhuman. But I think his insecurity speaks to the same source as our fascination.

Who among us hasn’t struggled with what it means to be good? Or to be evil? And if we are made to be evil, what does it mean to strive against that purpose or to surrender to it? Can we abandon the precepts of predestiny? Or do we reject that they were ever there?

Stare deeply into that Jungian shadow and tell me…

Is it green? And do you want it to be?

[idksmtms]

The Prettiest Trophy (Capitol Elite!Aegon II Targaryen x Games Winner!reader (Hunger Games AU)

Summary: You never thought you would make it out of the hunger games, but now you have another fight ahead of you. What do you do when one of the most powerful citizens of the capitol has chosen you to be his? 

Word count: 3.5k 

Trigger Warnings: 18+, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, profanity, innuendo, Dub-con due to power imbalance, coercion too ig (???), some angst (reader talks about survivor’s guilt from the games),  p in v s*x, unprotected s*x, oral f receiving, degradation (constantly referring to lesser status of districts), objectification and ownership,  (please let me know if I missed any) 

Rating: 18+, MDNI

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters. I do not claim to own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters. I do not own any pictures used nor do I claim to do so. 

Always appreciate comments, likes, and reblogs :) 

AN: Aaaaa my first fic finally! Didn't mean to make it this long but I got a bit carried away! I hope you enjoy! (Side note: I was imagining his hair as the style in the black and white pic, just with Targaryen white, Side note 2: I def realise the references to the way Gollum talks about the ring, IT WAS ON PURPOSE)

You never thought you would leave the arena. Every second could have been your last and you still didn’t quite believe you had made it out, that you were standing outside the President’s mansion at a lavish party, dressed in silks and jewels. No one told you how to live after the games were over. It had taken you three days just to be able to get out of bed and move around again after leaving the arena. Being at this party? It felt like a betrayal to all the people who had died so you could live. You sipped from the sickly sweet drink that almost seemed to glow in the night, and looked around the garden. 

Most people had finally left you alone thankfully, though you could still see eyes turning your way, whispers and conversations pointed toward your presence in the garden. At least no one was trying to force you into a picture like some capitol celebrity anymore. 

People in the most lavish costumes customary of the capitol milled about, talking, whispering, cackling like witches in their modified bodies with their modified voices. It was a horror show. The gardens had been decorated with delicate yellow fairy lights strung up in the trees and over poles around the tables. You assumed they wanted to give it a warm and welcoming look with the yellow lighting but it only cast grotesque shadows on the building that was not only the backdrop to this party, but to all your nightmares. There were tables set up with stark white tablecloths draped over them, an area cleared away for a dance floor, and more noise coming from the entrance to the mansion. Avoxes walked around carrying trays of food and drink between their hands, heads bent low, and shame began to rise inside you. What were you doing here? Why were you forced to be here?

There was someone behind you. You didn’t know when you had become so aware of any presence, probably somewhere between fending off humans and wildlife alike in the arena, and you could distinctly feel someone behind you. A slight shadow fell over your shoulders. A small touch rustled the train of your dress. Someone cleared their throat. You turned around, hands quivering, and looked at the man smirking broadly at you. Your first thought, shamefully: was he even real? 

His hair was so blond it was white, cut short and combed back so perfectly he could be no less than an aristocrat. He wore a suit of dark grey over a black shirt, one of the less eccentrically dressed people at the party. But his shoes were lavish. Black and shinier than anything you had ever seen, embroidered with gold thread, gold jewellery dangling from the laces and gems stamped into the fabric. Surely this man was of the richest of the rich, because even in the capitol people were wont to have shoes so lavish. You stared at his shoes for a good minute, whole body frozen, when he cleared his throat once more. You looked at his eyes. You couldn’t tell if they were more blue or grey, like ice had formed over a stormy ocean. 

“And who might you be?” He asked, mouth still smiling, before he brought his glass up to his lips and took a drink while waiting for your answer. 

“You don’t know who I am?” You asked, almost taking a step back. That couldn’t be true. Viewing was mandatory, your face had been plastered across every screen in Panem for weeks, it couldn’t be true that he didn’t know you. And yet… for a moment… it felt so good not to be recognised. You were just some other girl, lost in the crowd at a party, who hadn’t gone through what you had gone through. 

“Well, I may know of you, but I don’t know you know you,” his smile had softened and he stepped closer until his elbow lightly brushed yours and you were both looking out at the party.

“I suppose that’s true,” you answered quietly, still watching his face. His skin was almost as dangerously pale as his hair, and sallow, like he was never quite in the best of health. Though you couldn’t deny the truth, he was a handsome man regardless of his slightly ragged appearance. 

“Aegon Targaryen the second,” he held out his hand, running his eyes over your face like he hadn’t gathered enough of it the first time, “and you?” 

“Y/n L/n,” you breathed out, reaching out an unsteady hand to limply shake his own. He gently clasped your fingers and brought your hand to his mouth, pressing his lips to your knuckles before releasing your hand. It was such an odd sensation, his hot breath brushing over the back of your hand, his fingertips slightly rough - but not enough to suggest any sort of manual labour - clasping the skin of your palm. Your cheeks went hot, the tips of your ears tingling, and you continued staring at this enigma. 

“How has the capitol been treating you?” He asked, chugging the rest of his drink and depositing it on the tray of an Avox as they passed by like some well-practised dance. You didn’t want to reply. “Well, I suppose you haven’t had the time to truly enjoy it. At least, not the truly fun bits anyway,” he shrugged, tilting his head and looking at you like it was a particularly amusing thing he just said. 

You couldn’t understand this at all. Who was this man? What was this interaction? What did he want with you? Why was he acting so mundane, like this was normal?! None of this was normal. 

Noticing the look on your face, Aegon chuckled and reached forward to push some hair over your shoulder. It took everything within you to hold in your shiver. 

“Ah, you must be confused about who I am! I shouldn’t have assumed you would understand the name Targaryen. We may be famous in the capitol but who knows what goes on in the districts,” you swallowed hard and nodded, trying not to flinch at the dig. “Our family works in all sorts of sectors, for example, my uncle Daemon is responsible for manufacturing arms for the state, my younger brother Aemond works under the president in some position or other - god knows he never shuts up about it - and my father currently runs the peacekeeper program. Of course I’m expected to step up to that eventually but- I won’t bore you with the details.” 

You didn’t really consider that work. You had seen the way your parents toiled in the factory every day, had seen the way every member of your family slowly became a hunchback from their work. But you weren’t going to say anything to him. 

“What does your family do?” He asked, and again you almost moved out of surprise. His face seemed so sincere as he watched you, waiting for an answer. 

“I’m from District 8, so my parents work the looms,” you answered slowly. You almost sounded condescending, like you were talking to someone who couldn’t quite understand your words, but Aegon understood it was the shock of him speaking to you. After all, it had only been a week since you had left the arena, he understood how difficult it would be to gain your confidence. It didn’t mean he wouldn’t try. And Aegon was a firm believer that flattery could get you anywhere, especially a girl’s bed. So he decided to change course. 

“Do you see that man over there?” He pointed discreetly to a spot just to your right and you shuffled back so you could look over without being noticed. You sipped from your glass as you noticed the man, an older gentleman wearing a full fursuit topped with a lion’s mane going around his head. Even his face had been painted with fur and whiskers to resemble a lion with the body of a human. You nodded to Aegon, turning away from the man. Something about that picture made you uncomfortable in a way you had never been before. “Well, rumour has it that he wears that entire get up, face paint and all mind you, every time he fucks.” You gasped, staring at Aegon with eyes so wide they started to hurt. 

“You can’t be serious,” you whispered sharply. 

“I am the most serious, dearest. Why would I lie to you?” He smirked, leaning closer once more. He draped his arm over your shoulder and you stiffened for a moment before continuing to listen to his next story. 

You were slowly beginning to relax in Aegon’s company as he continued to chatter to you. He no longer asked questions or expected you to speak, just pointed out people in the crowd and made colourful commentary that had you hiding your face in his shoulder and giggling against the fabric of his suit. He gazed at you with sparkling eyes full of mirth and shared his ever-full glass of whatever drink they were serving at the time. You couldn’t help but be charmed. Maybe, just maybe, not everyone in the capitol was as bad as they seemed. 

“D’you wanna go somewhere quieter?” He finally asked after completely relieving another stranger of their dignity. You took a moment to catch your breath and looked at him, at the sudden darkening of his eyes and the way his tongue poked out to lick his lips. He watched you like a tiger readying to pounce. You nodded without a second thought. Though he had made the party bearable, anywhere would be better than here. He smiled and reached down, sliding his fingers over your inner wrist, then your palm, then grasping your hand in his own. “Come on.” 

Aegon led you into the house and up the stairs, nodding at random people (who sometimes you could barely recognise as people), skilfully dodging attempts at conversation. Up and up the lavish stairs you went before walking down a large hallway and stopping in front of a wall. Aegon pushed at the wall and it gave way, revealing a spiral staircase in the dark that led up into an abyss. 

“Um, are you sure you know where you’re going?” You asked, pausing at the entrance to the rather dingy looking chamber. 

“There are some perks to having been at the president’s mansion practically since I was born. One of those being secret access to the roof, now come on!” He dragged you into the dark and shut the door behind him, before ushering you up the first steps. 

The staircase really wasn’t all that tall. In fact, you could see the top and light bled down from the opening. Your heels clanked against each step and you almost toppled back into Aegon more than once. Then you were at the top. Then you could see the whole Capitol. Oh it was breathtaking! The whole city, laid out before you like a miniature scene to play with. There were lights glimmering in houses and cars on the roads and life! There were signs of life everywhere. Oh you couldn’t believe it. You almost believed you could see to the very edges of Panem. 

 “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Aegon asked, and you turned to meet his eyes. Both of you had moved right to the edge of the rooftop so you could look out over the party, and he moved to stand directly behind you. You could feel his chest press into your back. The fabric of his shirt rubbed against the skin of your back and he was a solid pressure behind you, like the comfort of a wall at your back when you slept. “Hm?” He asked again, bending his head down to run his nose up your neck. You shivered, the light graze was just ticklish enough to start a spark inside of you. 

 “Yes,” you breathed out, clenching your hands on the concrete to stop yourself from leaning back into him. You didn’t know him. You didn’t really know him. You didn’t know him at all. 

 “You know,” he began slowly, hands going to your shoulders and turning you around to face him. “When I first saw you on the television, the day of the reaping, I knew you would win.” Your breath caught in your throat. Your mouth was so dry. You wished you hadn’t discarded that sweet drink so quickly. “And look at you now,” he leaned in closer, cupping your face to force your eyes to meet his, “you’re the winner, the greatest person in Panem, to come out of the districts anyway.” He gently kissed your right cheek, warm lips on plush skin, and when he pulled away the breeze cooled the hint of saliva he had left behind. “You’re the greatest treasure one could possess, you know?” He kissed your other cheek, firmer this time, like he was trying to leave the imprint of his lips on your skin. “Everyone knows the winner of the Hunger Games, and to say you own them? To parade them on your arm for everyone to see, saying you own the very concept of survival?” He seemed to groan in pleasure, and then everything was moving. 

His lips were on yours, slightly wet and forceful. His tongue was delving into your mouth, tasting like sugar, too much sugar, and you wanted to pull back because it was so overwhelming and everything he had just said and and and… and it felt so good too. It was warm, and desperate, like no one had ever been for you before. 

A hand moved into your hair and grasped the strands at the back of your head tight, pulling slightly to tilt your head back so you had to look up at him. He was almost leaning over you so your spine bent over the edge of the roof, and the skin of your back scratched against the unpainted concrete. He huffed against your mouth then pulled back, his other hand coming up to trace your mouth with his thumb. You stared into his eyes but he wasn’t looking back at you, not really anyway. He was watching his prize, the reward that no one but him deserved. 

You whimpered, a small and pathetic sound that only seemed to make his skin hotter, and he let go of your hair to begin pulling the straps of your dress down your arms. It was a heavy thing, and it felt good to finally be rid of the weight, but you were keenly aware of the cold night and the party in full swing just underneath you. If someone in the garden decided to look up, they would surely see you bent over the edge. 

“Wait-” you began to protest, but Aegon was past listening, past caring. He just shoved the dress under your breasts and down your legs, before grabbing your face and bringing your mouth to his own again. His hands travelled over your neck, then caressed your shoulders. He gently pressed the red indents the straps of the dress had left and you sighed into his mouth, leaning onto his chest. Your nipples rubbed against the fabric of his shirt and you gasped into the kiss before moving your chest slightly. The warm little tingles travelled all the way through your torso and you clung to his arms. 

Aegon kissed sloppily over your cheeks, your neck, pausing to bite into it until you grunted with pain and pushed at his shoulder. He licked all the way down to your chest, his tongue warm and wet, then the slick trail of spit suddenly cold. Your legs felt unsteady, and you leaned back against the barrier as he began mouthing at your breasts, little circles of warmth formed everywhere he kissed, and then his mouth closed over your nipple and you clenched. It was so… weird. A wet suction formed over your nipple and it seemed to make the inside of your breast spark, your stomach jolt, and the space between your thighs tingle and turn to mush. 

“Come on precious,” he mumbled against your skin, “you can be louder,” and he bit the flesh. It really was a live wire attached to your skin, so easy to spark, so easy to create a fire that spread all throughout your body. 

Aegon was quicker with the other nipple, licking over it like a dog with a bowl of water, before making his way down to the apex of your thighs. He seemed to be in a hurry with the way he dove his face between your legs. A cry left your lips, loud and shriek-like, at the overwhelming activity. His nose slipped between your lips and pressed to your clit, his tongue out and flat and lapping against the sticky slick that covered the puffy folds that hid your hole. He was ravenous, pressing his face in in in until you stood on your tiptoes and half your weight was balanced against his face. The contours of his face pressed at your hole, his nose rubbed at your clit, and he moved his face back and forth so his tongue could poke inside of you then slip back into his mouth. He began speaking into you, rumbling words you couldn’t understand over the rushing in your head. 

“Come on, cum on my face,” he huffed, grabbing your thighs and licking at your clit until it was puffy and swollen. “I wan’ you to cum on my face, give me what I want.” He pressed his tongue inside you. In. Out. He licked your clit. In. Out. He sucked it into his mouth, and your legs shook so much that you would’ve fallen onto the floor if you weren’t practically laying on the barrier already. It was a release. That’s all it could be called. Every muscle clenched then released. Even your mind felt like it had slowly been clenching and now it had been unravelled and was slowly dripping out of your skull. 

“Fuck, that’s right,” Aegon mumbled as he pulled away, standing to full height and pulling your hips against his own. His hair had fallen forward into his eyes and his mouth and nose glistened in the low light, but he didn’t seem to care one bit. He had leaned over your body again, pressing his face into your neck. The slick on his chin stuck to your skin and squished whenever he moved. He humped into you a few times, grunting and groaning, before hurriedly reaching down and fumbling with his belt and zipper. You could hear the clanking of metal, the rustle of fabric, and then something warm pressing to your thigh. 

There was no waiting with Aegon. His body simply didn’t contain the patience for it, and really why would you wait when the prize you had so long coveted lay bare before you, just ripe for the taking? A shift here, a push there, and he caught at your entrance. He finally pulled away from your neck and looked into your eyes. He caressed your cheek, and you could tell all he saw was a trophy he had just won. 

Then Aegon pressed into you, and his veins rubbed at your slick insides, pressing against your walls and sliding against your own textured flesh and you were leaning back to moan into the night sky, chest heaving. He kissed your breasts and pushed into you again, his lower stomach pressing your clit. Again, he moved into you and the sparks flashed and you clenched around him, onto him, and he moaned against your ear, hot breath fanning the shell. 

“Fuck yes, you’re my precious little thing aren’t you? Huh? You’re my special little prize?” His hips slapped against yours and the sound echoed over the roof. His mouth biting into your neck sent sparks through you. Back and forth and back and forth and back and forth and oh god it was too much! You clenched onto him and screamed into his neck, open mouth pressed to the sweaty skin. You clenched and unclenched onto him as waves passed through you, melting your flesh and your bones. It was over too soon yet it lasted too long. He pushed once more, twice more, and you could feel him quiver against you, even as you tried to push him away from the pulsing flesh of your insides. You could feel the spurts inside you, hot and gushing. You felt it trickle out of you, slide down your thighs in warm rivulets and you shuddered. 

Aegon still lay on top of you, huffing heavily into your neck. You didn’t know what to do, so you stayed still, waiting for guidance, waiting for the other shoe to fall. He slowly pushed up on his arms so his face hovered above yours, and he smiled a dazed and delirious smile. Was it always there, or had it just appeared, that insanity in his eyes? 

“Oh my precious,” he sighed, cupping your cheek, “we have so much ahead.”

[thefallenangelsgang]

I'm losing my fucking mind

Or: I just saw Lord of the Rings the Musical at the Chicago Shakespeare Theater and my brain chemistry has irreversibly changed

I'm too genuinely scrambled at the moment from travel to make a solid post (I am multiple states away from Illinois and I hate city driving) but I cannot shake the life-changing experience that was.

SPOILERS AHEAD

(Spoiler free tldr: story is changed sometimes severely to make a sub-3hr runtime or to simplify, but the message doesn't get completely lost. Tolkien fan approved)

First issue I can see everyone having is how much the story changes because it does change a lot. Rohan and Gondor being merged is probably the most glaring. I think it works because the show is more focused on the Hobbits (specifically Frodo and Sam). Personally I can look past it. My one issue is the missing Sam monologues (mount doom is a rather swift sequence, I'd have liked to see Sam give his devotion speech and his speech about the shire while waiting to die) those would have made insane songs but alas. The ending still was a gut punch though so it's more a personal preference thing.

First thing that blew me away was the technical aspect. The lighting and set design was GORGEOUS and EVOCATIVE. There were multiple times lighting alone drew me to tears.

The puppetry is immaculate. The nazgul chase is singularly some of the most beautiful choreo I've seen and I'm a slut for puppetry

The cast play all of the instruments live on stage, sometimes while doing choreography (nothing will prepare you to see Legolas holding a fucking trumpet or Boromir strapped into a goddamn accordion)

The costuming is more accurate to the original editions' illustrations which I found endlessly charming. One difference is, for safety (probably OSHA), all the hobbits (and Gollum) wear Sandals. This is never discussed. I love that.

BOROMIR IS KILLED BY HIS OWN SWORD WHICH I CANNOT EXPRESS HOW PERFECT THAT IS NARRATIVELY

GOLLUM PLAYED BY TONY BOZZUTO IS NEARLY INDISTINGUISHABLE FROM ANDY SERKIS

(I am not joking about this. Somehow he has mastered Andy's physicality and voice work. It truly was a sight to behold.)

Saruman/Elrond's actor (dressed as a hobbit) was hanging out in our section during preshow and was having a grand old time.

Bilbo and Frodo were in the main audience bothering people. Frodo was playing a stick and ring game and got absolutely shown up by some 10 year old he invited to play.

The Entmoot took literally 2 minutes (the way I had to stop from HOWLING at that)

I was SOBBING at the end, like actually.

Somehow this production managed to keenly make me feel the ending of Frodo leaving for the Grey Havens more than the movies did. The Irony of Frodo leaving being both a hopeful prayer that there is a place where people bound with trauma and wounds too deep to heal can live in peace without pain and also a grim acceptance that sometimes people cannot recover was STARK

Frodo and Sam really push the narrative of this show up until the end and it hits HARD. God bless this cast with steady work, they all deserve it.

[mushroomates]

the fellowship at the beach:

aragorn: knows exactly where to go for peak waves and sun. it’s not crowded and quite frankly the fellowship is unsure if they’re technically trespassing but it’s a good enough time for them not to care. likes to set up canopies and umbrellas for everyone then disappears for like 2 hours on a walk/hike.

boromir: likes to grill/camp out. he enjoys large bond fires and roasting marshmellows. during the day he likes to do beach volleyball or swim in the ocean, a very physical dude. enjoys activities,,, has to be doing something.

merry: likes to fly kites with boromir on the dunes. not a huge fan of water, enjoys playing games and building large sandcastles. he and pippin like to turn gandalf into a sand mermaid when the can, as well as dig a giant moat with gimli.

pippin: gets sunburnt everytime. has so much sand in his hair. gets it everywhere. is a walking disaster- has lost several hats, sunglasses, beach toys, wallets, keys, phones,,,, everything pippin has in his possession when he comes to the beach he will no longer have when he leaves. this also includes the many stickers, magnets and keychains he swipes from nearby shops for keepsakes. wants to rent a jetski but no one will go with him.

frodo: likes to wade in the water and collect pretty seashells. brings them back to his friends to show them off. finds rocks in all shades and sizes, brings samwell heart shaped rocks as well as any cool colored ones that remind him of sam. gandalf once asked why frodo never brought him any rocks, in which frodo started collecting all grey rocks and bringing them to gandalf. funnily enough, most rocks are some shade of grey, and gandalf got rather sick of pebbles being chucked at him.

sam: has many towels and lots of sunscreen. very prepared with the snacks, brings sandwiches and drinks for everyone! likes to hang out in the shade and walk along the shore. enjoys the touristy shops along the coast, especially likes the salt water taffy and keychains. laughs loudly at all the gimmicky tourist traps,,,, always goes in/falls victim to them.

legolas: is weird about sand,,,,, cannot have it between him and something else. ex: between the shoes, clothing, hair. has to be directly on him or nothing at all (walking barefoot) once they are even within proximity the beach he jumps out immediately charges towards the water. likes to push people in/splash them.

gimli: no shoes no shirt no problem,,, immediately in just swim trunks as soon as they pull up to the parking lot. enjoys building massive sand castles with the hobbits as well as digging deep trenches to trap their compatriots in. they cover it with a towel, someone falls in and nearly breaks their neck- good times.

gandalf: brings a book to read, likes to chill in the shade and listen to the waves. falls asleep more often then not, wakes up barricaded in sand or made into a sand sculpture. will disappear suddenly and come back with ice cream. no one knows where he got it. he does not share or tell anyone where he gets this mysterious ice cream either.

bilbo: is reading with gandalf. he brings some iced tea and good sunglasses and just relaxes. he is a active people watcher, likes to eavesdrop as well as note and speculate on interesting figures. likes to do some light journaling/writing as well.

gollum: is fishing. lurks in the bay and attempts to catch fish with his bare hands, then proceeds to immediately eat them raw. also chases seagulls- will chath and eat those as well. he is, unfortunately, quite successful in this. he is also no longer allowed in or around several public beaches.

[perplexingly]

I've been wanting to write a description of the Watermill Theatre's Lord of the Rings musical for these who were unable to see it, so I'll mention some of the things that stood out to me.

Also first of all, I saw that @emeraldskulblaka was kind enough to compile a masterpost about the musical, sharing the available videos and audios here

Now to the Watermill production:

The audience was encouraged to come 30min before the start of the show to celebrate Bilbo's 111 birthday.

During that time the actors were playing music, talking with the audience, playing games with the audience, I almost got hit in the face as Gimli in front of me failed to catch a ring that was thrown at him : D I saw there are some recordings of this part around, eg:

While still outdoors, the play started seemlessly with Bilbo's iconic birthday speech. After his disappearing act (in a puff of smoke), we moved indoors and while the audience was settling down, Frodo sat on stage all sad perusing letters

This stage is very tiny but they used it in a clever way; eg. there were moments when, to show the distance, the actors would say their lines behind the audience on the upper ring. They would also utilise the doors at the center stage or the ladders on the sides to climb on. The lighting also gave each scene a lot of character:

Also each actor doubled as a musician, often playing on the edges of the stage but still in full view, giving this interesting illusion of environment.

I think my favourite moment of using actors as parts of the environment was during Sam and Frodo's Now and for Always duet: once they started singing, Bilbo came to sit on the edge, in the shadow, just looking at them, and with each verse a new hobbit/musician came behind, hanging out in the shadows and giving this dreamy idea of Shire. And when Sam fell asleep, there was Rosie coming a bit forward to caress him.

Another such wonderful moment was near the end, when Frodo could go no longer and Sam helped him. The earlier situation when Sam fought off Shelob with Eärendil's light reminded the viewer of Galadriel's - and the elves - indirect help. And when Sam put his arms around Frodo to guide him, quietly, in the shadows around them illusions of elves appeared to show them the way and to catch them when they stumbled.

Speaking about the plot point - act 1 encompassed the first of the trilogy while the second act the other two. To achieve this condensation in the second act, most characters that were not directly related to the fellowship were either removed or merged with other, eg. Denethor and Theoden were combined into one, with the Rohan/Gondor politics removed altogether. But honestly, I thought it was the smarter choice, as we get the time to get attached to the main cast.

One more thing I'd like to mention were the practical effects. While ents were just an off-stage voice, when they were talking there were leafs falling down from the ceiling. But the most impressive was Shelob, which was a giant puppet with real-like leg movement, mostly in shadow except for the reflective eyes. I saw that there's an early test for Shelob posted on Instagram:

Also, I talked about Gollum in an earlier post, but I just wanted to make a quick illustration of the adorable moment between Gollum and Bilbo that I saw in the epilogue:

[corndog-patrol]

ranking hobbit media by how sexy thranduil is okay go

first up we have 1977 rankin bass thran. and what a fucking mess he is.

they made him bald??? why?? he’s an elf where are the beautiful locks?? you can’t tell me that smidgen of hair on the side is beautiful elf locks. also that hunched posture is terrible for his back. 0/10

2003 Hobbit Game

okay this one earns some points for nostalgia but he is so fucking polygonal. that gamecube crust just DESTROYS the quality of his... everything. he does look a bit better in the cutscenes tho

kind of a serve. 5/10

The Lord of the Rings: The Battle for Middle-earth II (2006)

cant even find any good images of him from this game. he looks okay? ive never played it. 3/10

2012-2014 Peter Jackson Hobbit movies

okay this is where we peaked as a sexy thranduil society. lee pace thranduil is amazing and his absolutely fucked characterization can be overlooked cuz the aesthetics are literally peak ✨✨✨✨✨ Perfect In Every Way 10/10 ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

The Hobbit LEGO game (2014)

not really sure how to rank this on the sexy scale considering he’s a LEGO but he’s still based on the lee pace thran so that gives him some points. the  best part of this game was smashing shit as sauron after beating it. 7/10

lord of the rings online (LOTRO) (idk when they added him, it looks like 2018 but i have no clue if that’s really true)

The combat in this game is fun but why are half of the quests to fetch animal hides? anyway this thran looks weird, like an older white guy who doesn’t believe in tipping servers. 3/10

finally the new gollum game (2023)

he just looks off? the crown is cool but there’s just TOO much happening with this design. also the game sucks shit. 4/10

and that’s it. they should put more thranduils in media so i can rate them.

[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

Has anyone noticed the similarities between Sauron and Gollum in “Rings of Power”?

Deep down here by the dark water lived old Gollum, a small slimy creature. I don’t know where he came from, nor who or what he was. He was Gollum. The Hobbit

Riddles were all he could think of. Asking them, and sometimes guessing them, had been the only game he had ever played with other funny creatures sitting in their holes in the long, long ago, before he lost all his friends and was driven away, alone, and crept down, down, into the dark under the mountains. The Hobbit

They cursed us. 'Murderer', they called us. They cursed us, and drove us away. And we wept, precious. We wept to be so alone. And we forgot the taste of bread, the sound of trees, the softness of the wind. We even forgot our own name. Return of the King (2003)

“What a pity Bilbo did not stab that vile creature when he had the chance!”

“Pity? It was Pity that stayed his hand. Pity, and Mercy: not to strike without need. And he has been well rewarded, Frodo. Be sure that he took so little hurt from the evil, and escaped in the end, because he began his ownership of the Ring so. With Pity."

“He deserves death"

“Deserves it! I daresay he does. Many that live deserve death. And some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them? Then do not be too eager to deal out death in judgment. For even the very wise cannot see all ends. I have not much hope that Gollum can be cured before he dies, but there is a chance of it. And he is bound up with the fate of the Ring. My heart tells me that he has some part to play yet, for good or ill, before the end, and when that comes, the pity of Bilbo may rule the fate of many--yours not least"

Fellowship of the Ring, Shadow of the Past

The “my precious” face:

Gollum looked at them. A strange expression passed over his lean hungry face. The gleam faded from his eyes, and they went dim and grey, old and tired. A spasm of pain seemed to twist him, and he turned away, peering back up towards the pass, shaking his head, as if engaged in some interior debate. Then he came back, and slowly putting out a trembling hand, very cautiously he touched Frodo’s knee – but almost the touch was a caress. For a fleeting moment, could one of the sleepers have seen him, they would have thought that they beheld an old weary hobbit, shrunken by the years that had carried him far beyond his time, beyond friends and kin, and the fields and streams of youth, an old starved pitiable thing.” The Two Towers

This is not random, because not only Sméagol was corrupted by the One Ring (Gollum), but he was also captured and tortured by Sauron himself for information in Barad-dûr (Mordor) to learn who had the One Ring, in the Third Age (in the books, Sauron is not a giant eye ball on the top of a tower).

However, Sauron let him go (instead of killing him), which is odd not only by Sauron’s standards, but because Gollum knew Sauron’s plans, and releasing him would be a terrible risk (especially for a being as secretive as Sauron). And indeed it was, because it allowed Gandalf to know that Sauron was planning to use the Nazgûl to get the One Ring, and that he was aware that Bilbo had it, and the Nine Riders were headed for the Shire.

However, that’s what Sauron does. And why? Tolkien himself answered, in the Unfinished Tales: Sauron saw something on Gollum.

“He [Sauron] did not trust Gollum, for he divined something indomitable in him, which could not be overcome, even by the Shadow of Fear, except by destroying him.”

What did Sauron see? We don’t know, because Tolkien does not say. Only that Gollum made him uneasy, and he was not able to discern why.

Some theorize that Sauron might have seen Eru’s plan for Gollum in the creature (he would be the one to take the One and cast into the fire), and couldn’t kill him by “divine intervention”. To me, this theory doesn’t make much sense, because if this was what Sauron saw, why release Gollum, in the first place? Why not keep him a prisoner in Mordor to prevent this from happening?

Others say that Sauron did not trust Gollum but knew he would seek out the One Ring, and he could use this to his advantage, and that’s why he let him go. This is more likely, but still doesn’t explain why Gollum stir something in him.

And it seems that “Rings of Power” might be exploring this angle by giving Sauron some Gollum inspo. Which might mean that Sauron shared a recognition with Gollum. Which makes sense, since the he was corrupted by the One Ring, which holds a part of Sauron’s soul.

This makes me wonder, if we’ll get a scene like this in future seasons:

Frodo looked straight into Gollum's eyes which flinched and twisted away. 'You know that, or you guess well enough, Sméagol,' he said quietly and sternly. 'We are going to Mordor, of course. And you know the way there, I believe.' 'Ach! sss!' said Gollum, covering his ears with his hands, as if such frankness, and the open speaking of the names, hurt him. Two Towers

Frodo's calling Gollum by his true name has opened a door within him that had long been shut. It’s Gandalf that tells Frodo Gollum’s real name in the chapter The Shadow of the Past in “Fellowship of the Ring”.

Gandalf uses the name “Sméagol” in the past, never in the present (he calls him “Gollum”): this establishes a duality between the two names: Sméagol vs. Gollum. Pretty much the same as Mairon vs. Sauron. Sméagol is the “forgotten things” of Gollum’s past; like Mairon the Admirable is to Sauron. Gandalf admits he has hope that “Gollum can be cured before he dies”, meaning redeemed. This was Halbrand in Season 1; the Repentant Mairon.

Frodo, by addressing Gollum as Sméagol, evokes (or hopes to) the memory of these “forgotten things” (like Gandalf told him). Of course, Gollum is far into his corruption (being a ring-bearer to the One for over 500 years), for a mere evocation of his true name to redeem him, however, it could open the door to the hope of.

Indeed Gollum himself makes the distinction between the two: “Don't ask Sméagol. Poor, poor Sméagol, he went away long ago. They took his Precious, and he's lost now.” Or “No precious, no Sméagol”. In Gollum’s mind, “Sméagol” was lost not with the murder of Déagol centuries before, but when he lost the One to Bilbo.

In the Peter Jackson adaptation, this scene translated into this:

Frodo: Who are you? Gollum: Musn't ask us. Not his business, gollum, gollum. Frodo: Gandalf told me you were one of the river-folk. Gollum: Cold be heart and hand and bone, cold be travellers far from home. Frodo: He said your life was a sad story. Gollum: They do not see what lies ahead, when sun has failed and moon is dead. Frodo: You were not so different from a Hobbit once, were you... Sméagol? Gollum: What did you call me? Frodo: That was your name once, wasn't it? A long time ago. Gollum: My... my name. Sméagol....

In Season 2, it was Gandalf who had to earned his name via finding his staff. His character arc parallels Sauron’s in “Rings of Power”, which makes me wonder if his real name (Mairon) might come into play in Season 3.

Especially since we had so many mentions of him having “many names” in “Rings of Power”, already.

Which raises another question: did he, like Gollum, forgot his real name?

But who could come into play in this scene? The character who’s paralleling Frodo and Bilbo, of course: Galadriel.

[verecunda]

With all the Gollum game stuff going on, I’m going to pitch yous my cursed (cough) idea for a Túrin Turambar game.

You play as Túrin (naturally) and you’ve got a curse gauge that fills up as you play. You can’t stop it completely, but you can try to slow it down through the various choices you make through the game. BUT, being Túrin, it’s not as simple as Good Choice = slows gauge and Bad Choice = fills gauge. Sometimes if you make the Good choice, Morgoth will go off to sulk, so the gauge stalls. But sometimes, he’ll be so pissed off he’ll accelerate it for a bit, just out of spite. And sometimes just making the Good choice has an equal and opposite reaction that wreaks devastation on you and the NPCs around you.

Sometimes choosing the Bad option will slow the gauge down, simply because Morgoth is too laughing his ass off at you. Other times it’ll accelerate the gauge because from a purely objective standpoint HOLY FUCK WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?

Every so often the gauge fills up and unleashes something terrible. Your best bet is to be somewhere relatively isolated so the damage is minimal. (Or you might be one of those sickos who likes to watch the world burn, so you plank yourself in the middle of a crowded marketplace or slap-bang in the halls of Menegroth to watch the fireworks.)

There are several romance options. None of them end well.

Gurthang talks to you as you move around. Usually telling you how awful you are, usually at the most inopportune times, when you’re trying to line yourself for a tricky jump, or in the middle of a stealth mission where silence is key. After the first few times of this you’re ready to eat your controller in rage.

There is no good ending.

Also, naturally, because it’s a Túrin game, the whole thing is bugged tae fuck.

(After you complete the main storyline, you can unlock a secret mission where you play as Tuor, trying to navigate Ivrin without attracting the attention of the strange man in black.)

[probablybadrpgideas]

Greetings from Finland! I bring you a bad idea from the Nordic roleplaying scene: instead of dice rolls, resolve all conflicts with a delightful game of Sauna Gollum! It's a traditional Finnish party game and a lot of fun!

Gonna be honest I don't even know what to do with this one.